A Day Out of the Toilets
by DeppleICk
Summary: Moaning Myrtle finds herself out and about in the castle on a quest to find the answer to her question: what House is she?
1. Chapter 1

AN/ Poor little Myrtle. I've always had the question: where were you sorted? We'll find this question and more answered here.

DISCLAIMER: NO!

"Moaning Myrtle they call me; moaning indeed!"

The young girl ghost who favored the U-bends of toilets and haunting bathrooms was in a most moaning mood. You can't blame the poor girl though, as her only company was the occasional visit of three Gryffindors with the need to brew unlawful potions and open secrets chambers.

"Gryffindors! Ha. To think that the only mortals I meets aren't even in my own house." She released a high moan and swooped around her haunting place trying and failing to destroy something. After hours of this Myrtle was growing restless again. Normally when this happened she would explore the U-bends or visit another restroom or, if she was feeling particularly on edge, she might even venture into the depths of the lake.

Today however, Myrtle didn't feel inclined to do any of those things. Why? – because she had just realized a most troublesome thing. The ghost of the girl's bathroom could quite simply not recall which house she had belonged to. This was most certainly not good as no ghost wanted to loose any memory of their short time alive and Myrtle was no different.

And so Moaning Myrtle made up her mind on something and set out to do it, after of course leaving the water running as a nice surprise. And for the first time in a long, long, long time the girl ghost stepped, er – fazed, out of her bathroom and into the hall beyond.

At the time, classes were at their peak and the halls deserted. Myrtle floated hesitantly for a moment shifting non existent weight from one foot to the other.

Everything was so golden and warm, nothing like her white and wet domain. Having not been in any part of the castle other then the restrooms since the days of her death, excluding the Death Day party for the Gryffindor ghost, Myrtle found the entire thing a bit biases. After all, wasn't _gold _a Gryffindor color? She didn't see any silver or bronze or copper around.

Little was known about Myrtle's personality that didn't go beyond dreary and moaning so no one quite knew about the other strong force that controlled her. Moaning Myrtle was very curious and stubborn and when she got something in her head it stuck until she found a satisfying answer.

The question of the colors set the houseless girl set off down the hall hopelessly curious. Now determined to find some great display of another house's color the ghost had two goals and you could bet she wasn't going to be returning to her stall until she solved them.

Sometime later, about half an hour or so, and several floors up the haunter of the first floor toilets were seething, though one might notice, not quite moaning – yet.

"Gold. Gold! GOLD! This entire castle is bent with the color." Myrtle angrily swiped at a painting of a tea party. The dainty ladies in paint smiled down at her when her hand when straight though their canvas doing no harm.

"Now, now dear. Don't be upset," said one large woman in a poof of a blue dress.

"Hem, hem," sniffed Myrtle crossed her arms and pouting in the opposite direction. "I am not upset."

"Please child," said a slim painted woman with a large nose. She picked up her tea and sipped with her eyes closed. "How could you not be with that rats nest. Oh, and those glasses. Horrid!"

"Shut your trap Sue!" said the large woman as Myrtle began to "hem, hem" respectively as a warning of the moaning to come.

"Dear, you're quite pretty. A doll, really!"

"Ha!" Sue mocked. "With that pig snout, I think not."

The ghost had heard enough. With a loud wail Myrtle flew away from the portrait and weaved between walls and floors and ceilings. If she disturbed any class rooms she did not notice and continued to wail and weave and curse nasty things with well groomed self pity.

And she didn't even notice when she dived below ground level into a maze of dark halls. She stopped finally and suddenly when a great, snide voice called out.

"HAULT!"

A pregnant silence followed.

Moaning Myrtle opened her eyes and shut off her mouth. There about ten feet behind her stood a hunched greasy git in black, billowing robes. The man was wearing a frazzled but perfectly executed sneer beneath his hefty nose.

"Ghost," spat the man. "Get out of my dungeon and out of my sight. Pray I never stop you down here again if you value your meaningless existence."

Myrtle wasn't listening for she had been distracted by two things. One, the freakish way the man's nostrils flared to the size of pennies when he talked and two, the certain boy with the certain scar and the little habit of brewing potions in bathrooms.

"Harry!" Moaning Myrtle squealed. Okay, so she didn't exactly hate the boy; sulked a lot for his attention and wailed when she did not receive it, sure, but she did that for everyone. Besides, he was cute, and nice, but mainly cute. Myrtle was not ashamed to say she nursed a crush.

"Oh no," said boy groaned. He hung his head to hide the blush and avoid the stares as the girl ghost fazed threw the tables and tried to give him a hug. She failed only succeeding in making him shiver.

"Hello Harry," Myrtle grinned and pushed up the glasses that would and could never slip.

"Myrtle," Harry hissed. "What. Are. You. Doing. HERE!"

Myrtle pouted, crossed her arms, and faked sitting on the desk. "Hem, hem. You don't visit my toilet any more."

The class snickered. Snape, being the heartless bastard he was, decided to put up with the ghost a few moments more just to share in Potter's humiliation. Beside the boy the other bathroom visitors were sharing a look. Hermione smirked and Ron blushed even worse then Harry.

"I visit you later Myrtle. Not now!"

"Hem. That's what they all say. That's what SHE said!" Moaning Myrtle wailed pointing at Hermione who joined the boys in blushing.

The living girl stumbled. "Well, you see. Ah, Myrtle – I was really busy . . . with school and tests and – "

Myrtle moaned.

The students coward hands over ear. Snape twitched.

"Mr. Potter," he growled over the noise. "If you can not control these mindless fan girls then take them with you. Out and detention for three weeks, eight o'clock. Go!" Billowing over dramatically he yanked Harry out of his chair and dragged him out of the class.

Looking back at the ghost in his dungeon, Snape repeated his earlier threat tying exorcism in. Moaning Myrtle took on look at the man, cursed him wildly and flew out of the room screeching.

"I can't believe you did that!" Harry exploded. "What are you even doing here!? Don't you have some bathroom to haunt!?"

"Hem," said the ghost never to be put out. "But Harry, I missed you, AND besides who are you to get off telling me what to do! It's my death and I'll do with it what I want! You're just some stupid Gryffindor BOY! Ha, Gryffindor, bloody gits."

"Myrtle, what is wrong with you?" Harry shot back sweeping an irritated hand through his hair as boy and ghost exited the dungeons.

"You won't know and you won't care, would you? You don't even visit. You know my death day past and no one gave me a party or said 'Happy Death Day Myrtle!' You for sure didn't!" Moaning Myrtle wailing high pitched but cut it off abruptly.

"Just forget it, stupid, bloody Gryffindor – Potter! I don't need you, I have a house. I know I do! I'll find out which one, you'll see!"

With an ear splitting screech the bathroom haunter flew into the ceiling and went up and up and up until popped right out of the castle's ceiling.


	2. Chapter 2

_A Day Out of the Toilets_

Chapter Two

Myrtle hid in the depths of the lake for the following week. Plotting – and moaning – were her day and night activities. Then finally, the young girl ghost felt compelled to go back to the castle and apologize. Not to the rotten – but cute – Potter boy, but to her bathroom. She felt she had been neglecting it.

With a little sigh Moaning Myrtle floated through the entrance hall, stairs, and into her little bit of heavenly stalls. The taps she had left running had been turned off long ago and even the floor was dry. Put out, Myrtle fazed and floated through every bit of the bathroom not really into it.

She still hadn't given up on her quest but some things had to be done. Even a ghost had responsibilities. Moaning Myrtle haunted the girl's bathroom on the second floor and therefore had a little control over it (like being able to turn the water on and flush the toilets.) but she had to haunt it for that to be true.

But once her duties were over, Myrtle's normally frown turned upwards. Without a pause the girl ghost fazed out the door and up several flights of stairs. This time she had a plan.

"Harry!" screamed the ghost of the bathroom. "Harry! Harry! HAAARRY!!"

She emerged in a room of red and gold and stopped. The Gryffindors in the room stopped too. Myrtle scowled, "Gold! More bloody GOLD!" Then she spotted the red girl.

"You, Weasley girl!" she snapped. The girl jumped and drained white. "You tell me why every thing in this rotten castle is gold."

"A-Ah . . . . Well, this is the Gryffindor common room. It's supposed to be red and gold."

"Hem, that's no excuse." Myrtle said. "Take me to Harry, Weasley girl."

The girl began to bubble off a question.

"I. Mean. Now!"

Weasley girl squeaked and nodded mutely. She hustled out of the common room, Myrtle followed. Weasley girl led her to the library, Myrtle flew in front of her now and spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled together. She flew closer.

"What are you doing?" Moaning Myrtle asked poking her head through the red haired boy's back to look Harry in the eyes. Ron jumped away shivering while Harry and Hermione stepped back horror-struck.

"Nothing!" Harry said a little too quickly. Myrtle frowned.

"Just research Myrtle. Now, why are haunting Harry?" Hermione said. Myrtle quite liked Hermione, chiefly the half-cat Hermione which had cause Myrtle to be in a good mood for nearly a month. She supposed this full human girl was okay as well.

But still . . . "Hem, I am, hem, not haunting Harry."

"Then why are you following him?" asked Ron. Myrtle liked Ron too, he was always tripping over his feet and being stupid and causing funny scenes the ghost liked to laugh at.

"I need help." The girl ghost said. "You see, it's really quite sad. I can't recall my House."

"You're house? Like what where you lived?" Ronald asked.

"No you prune." Myrtle snapped, her voice rising. "My house. Ravenclaw! Hufflepuff! Slytherin! Or bloody Gryffindor! I can't remember which one's mine."

"Shhh!" said the librarian. The golden trio cowed back.

"Myrtle just calm down, please!" Hermione shushed but Myrtle began to hem, hem. "Let's talk outside, quickly now." The golden trio hustled out of the library while Moaning Myrtle floated after sobbing. A good distance away from the library and in an abandoned classroom the bushy hairs girl finally stopped and turned on the ghost.

"Now Myrtle," Hermie began in a Mother Teresa tone. "Tell us what why this is so important."

The ghost of the second floor bathroom nodded and with a wobbly lip told them all about how she had realized the castle was all gold and when she discovered she couldn't recall her House and what she had done so far to find the answers. Hermione took this all on with an understanding face, Harry was attempting to understand but got all prissy when she mentioned Snape again, and the Weasley looking bored and annoyed.

"So you need our help to find out your House." Hermione concluded. The girl ghost nodded, she was beginning to like the human Hermie a lot. The bushy Gryffindor looked determined.

"Alright, we'll help."

"What? Hermione!" sputtered Ron. "We can't help her, she's a loon! If it gets out that we're helping Moaning Myrtle we are going to be the laughing stock for the entire year!"

Myrtle snarled at him. "Like you already aren't. You should just hear the things the Slytherins say about you. And the Ravenclaws too! Even the Hufflepuffs have a good old time bashing up the Weasley name."

"Guy please!" The oh-so cute Harry pleaded. "Ron just back off. You don't have to help if you don't want to. Hermione you shouldn't sign us up for something we don't want to do – "

"Exactly!" Ron butted in.

" – But since you already did promise our services I at least will help." Harry finished. The ghost grinned and jumped on – um, though him. He shivered but sent her a small smile back. Hermione positively beamed. Ron did not.

"No way, Harry. Sorry but I'm out on this one, see you guys later." The Weasley looked at them like they were crazy and walked out. The stall creeping spirit stuck her tongue out at him.

"Okay, Myrtle. Let's start with the basics." Hermione said. She pulled out a notebook and quill.

"Alright," the ghost granted without difficulty.

"Who was your Head of House?"

"Ah . . . next question." Moaning Myrtle blushed.

"What part of the castle did you spend the most time in? The dungeons, the kitchens, or the towers."

"Oh, that's easy, the bathroom!" The ghost girl replied happily. "I remember being kicked out of the dorm regularly. Nasty little rats."

"Do you remember their names?" The Gryffindor questioned looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Ha, as if I would commit those bullies' names to memory."

Harry sighed impatiently. "Do you remember anyone?"

Myrtle sniffed. "Of course. I remember my professors and the Headmaster and that bully who made me cry the day I died. Oh and I remember that strange boy with the made up language."

The-Boy-Who-Lived and his girly sidekick cringed. "Okay, this clearly isn't getting us anywhere seeing as Myrtle can't remember anything." The living girl huffed.

"Hem, of course my memories rubbish. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't." retorted Moaning Myrtle.

"Obviously," Hermione growled.

Harry saved the day. "Can't we just ask the Sorting Hat? It doesn't seem like the kind of thing to forget something like that."

"Harry you are a genius!" the spirit squealed.

"That could actually work," Hermione admitted.

"Well let's go!" Myrtle yelled happily. She took off through the wall and beamed in hearing the other too following her in their slow humanly way. When they finally caught up it was just out side the Headmaster's office where Moaning Myrtle awaited having a nice chat with the gargoyle. His name was Freddy and he hated sweets. Myrtle found him adorable.

"Wait Myrtle, we don't have the password." Hermione panted.

"Pfft. Password Smashword." The ghost blew a password. "You mortals are so trivial." She turned to the guard. "Freddy be nice and open up would you?"

"Sure M. Anything for you." The gargoyle leaped away and even bowed politely to Myrtle. The girl ghost giggled and floated happily through.

"Wicked," Harry breathed and followed quickly while Hermione was muttering under her breath about 'about a hundred rules broken'.

The Headmaster's office was empty as they had thought but Myrtle had found her self being chewed out by the abundance of paintings. The hauntess of the Hogwarts toilets ignored them and floated to the high shelf where the Sorting Hat lay dormant.

"Hey! Sorting Hat, wake up!" she screeched. The hat sputtered and scrunched up. The grumpy face of the Sorting Hat looked at her.

"What do you want girl. I was sleeping." The hat growled.

"You sleep all year," Harry said. He lifted the hat off of the shelf and set it down on the stool below instead.

"Oh, it's you boy. I still say you would have done well in – "

"Yes, yes. I know what you said but I'm a Gryffindor so live with it." snapped Harry. The Sorting Hat sputtered indignity but cowed.

"Besides, this is about me, not Harry!" Myrtle cried. Looking thoroughly strained the hat softened his voice.

"What may I do for you Ms. Myrtle Maria Madison?"

Moaning Myrtle beamed at him. She was giddy with excitement. Finally she would get her answers. "What House did you sort me into?"

"I'm sorry my dear. There is no re-sorting here at Hogwarts, my dear." The Sorting Hat said gruffly. "I'm sorry but I can not help you."

"W-What! Hem, but I was, hem, hem, already sorted!" wailed Moaning Myrtle. "I just don't remember where!"

"Can't you just tell her?" Harry asked appalled.

"No! I refuse and I can't!" The hat cried. Myrtle began to moan, loud, high, and long. The paintings fled, the Gryffindors coward, and the Sorting Hat hid. She wailed for hours, then for days, and then for months. She didn't move from the office and didn't breathe. Under the fifth month the Sorting Hat finally cracked under the glares of the Headmaster, Golden Trio, and paintings.

"Alright! Alright! You stubborn pig-nosed brat. I'll tell you!" the hat screamed. Myrtle's screaming stopped at once. The castle took a deep breath and the Sorting Hat yelled out one word.

And on that day the girl ghost of the second floor bathroom, The-Ghost-Who-Won't-Shut-Up, Moaning Myrtle, and Ms. Myrtle Maria Madison became an official bloody Ravenclaw. When the news was announced, several things began at once. First of, everyone in the castle let out a sigh of relief; many pulled ear plugs from their ears or removed silencing spells. The Golden Trio ran to the Headmaster's office at once. Hermione was gloating – she had figured it out weeks ago. After all, some one had to be particularly clever and determined for information to scream for so many weeks. Dumbledore moved out of the abandoned class room and reclaimed his office. He hadn't been smart enough to think of telling the ghost himself what house she had been in. He had been her teacher after all. As for Myrtle . . .

She went back to her bathroom and began to re-haunt it once again. She still moaned and she was still moody. She still had a pig-nose and a fat face and messy hair. She still thought the golden castle was favoritism.

Things changed.

Girls came to her bathroom now. Some even came just to talk to the legendary ghost. People still called her Moaning Myrtle but they did so with reverence and awe. She was still a bit of a loon and she still fawned over Harry but grew out of the crush. Hermione became her new best friend and together they would sneak books from the restricted section. She later married Peeves and helped him carry out his stunts and general tormenting. They have never been happier.

Life in the castle went on and things change but the death of Moaning Myrtle had never been better.

* * *

AN// This wasn't quite how I wanted to end it but the only way I could think of. Beware however, this will not be the last of Myrtle!


End file.
